April 30
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

It is said that all pets will eventually break your heart.  Of course, for a non pet owner, this might sound a little bit overzealous or even crazy, but it is absolutely true.  We love our pets, no matter the breed, with a pure, peaceful love.  Yours is the dog who flies from the bed at the end of the work day to greet you at the door and licks the tears from your eyes when you cry, yours the cat who sleeps nestled in the small of your hip.  The bird, the turtle, the rat.  These are our pets.

Celeste, above, was by far my favorite rabbit.  I've owned several over the years.  I don't exactly know why I picked rabbit as the pet for me.  Maybe because I couldn't have a dog, and I'd never really wanted a cat.  Something about their admittedly high strung personalities was appealing, being admittedly a little bit high strung, even in my teens.  I told the story of how I wound up getting Celeste and Isabelle--from the pound, they were caged together.  I'd always wanted a Rex, and when I saw her, it was love at first sight.

As you know, Celeste and Isabelle lived together happily and humpily for three years.  Because Isabelle was so hysterical, it gave Celeste the opportunity to be the mellow one.  She'd flop dramatically on her side and take long naps while Isabelle guarded the perimeter of the cage.  When Isabelle died (actually, we had to put her down, see here.), I figured that Celeste would be sad, and maybe take on some of the twitchy, fidgety antics of her cagemate.  It never happened.  If anything, she became more interactive, more loving, more people happy.

It seems silly to say, almost, but I will say it:  she had a great personality.  She was gentle and personable. She never, ever bit or nipped.  I'd take her out of the cage and she'd patiently sit for an hour, being roughly handled by various nieces and nephews.  On Halloween, a child came to my door dressed as a rabbit.  I am unsure how it happened, but she saw into my house, to the cage, and saw Celeste, who was on her hind legs looking towards the voices.  To make a long story short, the child, her mother, and I sat on the porch, the child petting and hugging Celeste until they were ready to continue trick or treating.

Every morning, she'd greet me at the door of her cage.  When I opened the refrigerator to find her a carrot or some other snack, she'd run in happy circles, thumping and leaping.  If you check the photo at the top, you'll see a shredded curtain.  I can not even explain the fascination, but it was her toy.  She slept on it.  She hid under it.  She tossed it into the air and rolled around on it.  She played with it.  Do rabbits play?  Celeste did.

She lived at my house for 5 years.  I've no idea how old she was, because she was fully grown when I got her.  Five years was the longest I'd ever had a rabbit, and again, she was my favorite.  About a month ago, I started noticing that she just didn't seem right to me.  You know how you know, you can always tell.  Nothing specific.  Just not right.  It passed.  Then, last week, she stopped using her hind legs. A stroke?  A broken back?  Rabbits are notoriously fragile creatures.  She was still eating and playing, so I decided that I'd leave her be for as long as she ate and seemed to be able to care for herself.

I will spare you the details of why I decided it was time to put her down, because I'm sure they're alarmlingly similar to any horrible decision people make about ending their animal's life.  It was just time.  Last night, as Nick readied a box with a towel to bring her to the animal hosptial, I held her for the last time, sobbing and petting her soft head and her useless hind legs.  I brought her to my face and smelled her weird, rabbity smell and told her that everything would be better for her soon and that she'd been an amazing pet, I meant it.  She broke my heart, as pets will, but she gave me everything in return.

 
 
 
 
 

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